


What's Done In The Dark

by ScandalousMinds



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Boys Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt John Watson, Hurt Sherlock, I'm Bad At Tagging, John doesn't take lying well, Loss of Trust, Lying Sherlock, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Secrets, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock-centric, Top John, Trust Issues, mentions of past dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScandalousMinds/pseuds/ScandalousMinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock’s secret was kept, John was happily in the dark both figuratively and literally, and it was perfect. Which, meant it was the ideal time for things to unreservedly turn to sh*t.</p>
<p>Prompt inspired fill.<br/>Read full prompt in notes below.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> Sherlock only has sex in the dark because he doesn't want john to know just how terrified he is during the whole ordeal. 
> 
> See full prompt here: http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/22393.html?thread=131634809#t131634809
> 
> Obviously, I don't own Sherlock I Just Belong to it's fandom!  
> Apologies for any spelling or grammar errors

It was surprisingly easy for Sherlock to keep his _‘Little Problem’_ hidden from his flat-mate turned lover. **John**. The only man Sherlock himself had ever actively pursued. Although, the former- army doctor, had been unexpectedly rather difficult to ‘get’. While the doctor himself, may not have been as _straight_ as he had always proclaimed himself to be; he wasn’t an easy catch by any means. He very much made Sherlock ‘work for it’ as the saying goes.

Sherlock had been required to endure months of ‘wooing’ in the form of forcing himself to eat at ridiculously priced eatery’s, reminding himself to clean up his experiments, remembering that just because _he_ was awake at 3am in the morning it didn’t mean _everyone else_ was.

It was hell.

But, it had paid off because now John was HIS and he was more fulfilled than even he could have predicted. However, there was an _issue_ and that issue was… Sebastian. Or perhaps, a more accurate description was the lingering ‘effects’ of Sebastian.

Sebastian had been the first person to _pursue_ Sherlock although the use of the word ‘pursue’ may be an erroneous way of labelling it. **Hunted** … may be a more truthful narrative of how their ‘relationship’ had come about. Yes, Sherlock had be feverishly hunted by Sebastian and it had been… unpleasant. Sherlock had been young and inexperienced.

And, quite frankly, Sherlock had never encountered the type of ‘association’ Sebastian had required from him. It had been  _daunting_ for him the first time Sebastian had held him down pounded ruthlessly into him. The first few times it had happened Sherlock’s fight-or-flight response had kicked in.

The end results had been… painful.

Overtime, Sherlock succeeded in not fighting back. As, he quickly came to the realisation that struggling was both pointless and excruciatingly painful (on his end).

In the end Sherlock was only able to free himself of the ‘affiliation’ by going to Mycroft after a particularly brutal encounter. The two never discussed it again. Another thing they didn’t discuss, was the suspiciously timed attack Sebastian himself had suffered shortly afterwards. Although, Sherlock personally didn’t lose any sleep over the rumoured savagery his former ‘whatever’ had suffered through.

Over the years Sherlock had tried many a time to delete the whole tragic episode. Unfortunately, the entire sordid ordeal was cemented within his brain. But, Sherlock from that point on had sworn off of any kind of attachment from that point onward. Simply, resigning himself to a life of science and deductions. At least, that was his plan until one John Watson limped into his path.

While Sherlock, was in no way uncomfortable with being in a fully-fledged relationship with John (in fact although Sherlock would never say it out loud he was preposterously happy he was actually someone’s ‘Boyfriend’ no not _someone’s_ but _, John’s_ ).

The detective did have some ' _unfortunate_ ' moments which could only be described as ‘bouts of paralysing fear’ that often occurred in the beginning stages of sex with John and often didn’t subside until Sherlock had lost himself in the sensation of having John completely surrounding him kissing him slowly and delicately. Sherlock managed to hide the symptoms of his fear, in plain sight. Exploiting, John’s lack of observation.

The spike in his pulse, was easily explained by adrenalin. The trembling of his limbs could simply be put down to arousal. His breathlessness simply chalked up to excitement. The only thing Sherlock couldn’t hide from John was his facial expression. While, Sherlock was a master at masking emotions, even he had trouble hiding ‘blind terror’ from his features and if John were to ever see such an expression on his lover's face he would never touch Sherlock again and that would be nothing short of **unacceptable**.

So, Sherlock's only option was to never under **any** circumstance have sex in anything other than complete and utter darkness, which unfortunately multiplied the fear as Sherlock would at times (as illogical as it was) dread it was Sebastian on him instead of John.

However, the point was Sherlock’s secret was kept, John was happily in the dark both figuratively and literally, and it was perfect. Which, meant it was the ideal time for things to unreservedly turn to shit.


	2. Chapter 2

John and Sherlock had come stumbling into 221b barely seeing where they were going as they were both too distracted trying to latch their hands and mouths on as much skin as they possibly could. They soon made their way over to sofa, where John maneuvered his way on top and Sherlock was so distracted by the beautiful assault of John’s mouth against his skin he didn’t realise John had unzipped his trousers and was undoing his own.

But, the realisation soon hit him.

When he began to feel the tell-tale symptoms of anxiety prickling at the back of his neck and he knew then he had to act quickly and get John into their darkened bedroom. Which was admittedly easier said than done. John was _very_ ‘talented’ when it came to his sexual ministrations and it tended to short-circuit Sherlock’s hard drive at times, especially when John put his mouth to work on his lower body.

“John… Joh—John? Let’s—ungh—go—to—to the bedroom.” Sherlock panted out.

“Mmm” was all the response he got from John as he lowered himself even further down Sherlock’s body. Sherlock was torn between telling John to never stop and telling him to get the fuck up so they could get to the bedroom before it was too late.

“Mm… Jo—hngh—wait—wait… b—bed—bedroom” God John was turning him into an idiot.

“nnnn…lock...sta—ere.” Sherlock wasn’t sure that what John had just said had even been English.

“What? That didn’t even—oh god! Yesss! OH! THAT IS W—OH!” Sherlock breathed, right on the cusp of ‘risking it’ this **one time** and remaining in the well lit room until, he felt… it. John’s hardness nudging at his hip and that was it, his breath started coming fast, his hands started shaking and his body went completely still.

_John_.

Wonderful, amazing, beautiful John who was as in tune with Sherlock as Sherlock was with him knew immediately something was wrong as he looked up at Sherlock.

Three seconds.

That’s all it took for John to be up and off of Sherlock, making the detective shiver from the lack of heat.

John was by the mantel within the blink of an eye, watching Sherlock with the cold analytical stare of a doctor.

_Oh dear God!_ Sherlock couldn’t help but think to himself.

John eye’s roved over the younger man assessing and collecting data. Sherlock could for the first understand, why his deductions were… off-putting to some people. Since, he couldn’t help but feel exposed under John's stormy blue-grey eyes. Then just like, the quiet assessing stopped and John drew in a sharp breath.

_He knows_ thought Sherlock.

“Who?” John bit-out in a voice Sherlock could barely recognise. Sherlock didn’t have to ask what John was referring to, there was no point now.

“Sebastian.” Sherlock answered simply.

“When?” John’s eyes hadn’t stop darting over him.

“Years. 19 to be precise.” Sherlock answered once more.

“Did he--? Was it--?” John struggled to find his words, but Sherlock knew what he was asking.

“I entered a relationship with him _somewhat_ willing.”

“Somewhat?” John’s brows furrowed.

“I didn’t say no. I was young enough to still want to fit in. Sebastian wanted me. I didn’t have the social awareness to know what was ‘normal’ in terms of ‘relationships’ I thought—” Sherlock didn’t know how he was going to finish that sentence.

‘I thought it was customary to be hurt and degraded,’

‘I thought that’s was what _normal_ people did,’

‘I thought I could make a friend.’

 

“Okay.” John sighed rubbing a hand over his face “why didn’t you tell me?”

That question was not something Sherlock wanted to answer, as Sherlock could sense that that particular line of questioning led to dangerous territory, he really didn’t want John to examine too much.

Tactic: Distract and avoid.

“John…” Sherlock started in the voice he knew John found enticing. “Let’s go to bed. I **need** to feel you.”

“I don’t think—” John swallowed heavily as Sherlock started slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “Sherlock Don’t…”

Sherlock shimmied the soft material off of his Shoulders. “Let’s. Go. To. Bed. John.” Sherlock enunciated as he kick off his shoes. “It’s so bright out here. Take me to bed, John.”

And, just like that John’s eyes narrowed minutely.

‘ _Shit’_ thought Sherlock.

“Sherlock…” John’s voice began in a tone that was eerily calm (falsely, calm) “what happened before?”

“John?” Playing stupid had never worked before for the detective (against the doctor at least) but he thought it was worth a shot now.

“Before, Sherlock. What happened?” John’s question was met with a faux confused silence. “Was it something I did?”

“No, it’s never you! Ever!” Sherlock answered a little quickly.

“Has this happen before? Whatever _this_ was, has it happened before?” John asked eyes avidly scanning the man before him, if Sherlock wasn’t at that moment worried about what John may read off of him he would have been proud of John’s fast-improving deductive skills.

Sherlock didn’t know how to answer and evidently he had waited too long because when his eyes found the doctors again his saw the realisation hit John like a lightning strike. Within seconds John was staggering to his chair throwing his head into his hands and pulling at his hair.

Sherlock was kneeling at the doctor’s side within an instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why everything I write gets so angsty, it just happens...  
> More happens...
> 
> I hope you enjoy!  
> x


	3. Chapter 3

“…John…” That was as far as the detective got.

“Tell me I’m wrong Sherlock. Please. Tell me I’m way off base. Tell me that you and I haven’t been having sex for the past 6 months while you’ve been like… _that._ ” John looked up pointing at the sofa. The doctor looked destroyed. “Please, Sherlock.”

“John, I…” Good grief he couldn’t even form sentences anymore.

“No.” John all but whispered. “This. This is why it’s always in the dark isn’t? I always thought it was because—. “

Sherlock stared dumbly at his best friend who he could see was now visibly reassessing and analysing everything that had ever happened between them since the start of their relationship. He hadn’t thought the doctor had noticed he ‘not-so-coincidental’ lighting choices.

“What, john? What did you--? Sherlock asked wishing he had kept his shirt on.

“I thought maybe, you—that maybe, you didn’t… want to… see me.” Sherlock gasped grappling for purchase on John’s knee.

“How could you think that? Why didn’t you say anything? That’s hideous.” Sherlock breathed.

John, pushed passed Sherlock standing up quickly and pacing. “Well I wish it was something as trivial as that now! Don’t I? It’s better than this Sherlock. Better, than questioning myself as a—a… rapist.”

“Don’t. Be. Ridiculous.” John’s words made Sherlock’s stomach turn.

“Well it’s either that or an **idiot** , Sherlock! How clueless do you have to be not to notice your boyfriend, hating you touching him?”

“I LOVE YOU TOUCHING ME! Why are you saying these things? They don’t make sense! Stop being an idiot! John!” Sherlock yelled (almost wincing at his poor choice of insult).

_Timing Sherlock_. He heard his inner John reprimand.

“I don’t believe you now!” John yelled back. “How can I trust you now? Every time I try to trust you. Every time I try to believe that I’m done being left in the dark, there’s something else. There’s always something else, with you! Why do you do that? How can you do that? Did it not cross that genius brain of yours that I might feel a ‘ _tad_ ’ bit uncomfortable having had sex with someone who evidently is still affected by a sexual trauma, Sherlock? Didn’t that ever pop up in that screwed up’ logic of yours? Did it?”

“OF COURSE IT DID! WHY DO YOU THINK I DIDN’T TELL YOU? I KNEW YOU’D BE ALL NOBLE AND IDIOTIC! I’M NOT A WALLFLOWER JOHN! I WANTED IT! I WANTED YOU! SO, YES! YES! I WITHHELD INFORMATION THAT YOU DIDN’T NEED TO KNOW.” Sherlock all but screamed.

“And isn’t **that** just the crux of it? You decide, that I don’t need to know and I don’t even get the option. After everything, _everything_ Sherlock! This isn’t healthy! We’re apparently not the couple I thought we were. We haven’t moved past who we were five years ago, have we? After every bloody thing we’ve battled… _we_ are going to be the thing that breaks us? Your lack of honesty and my lack of trust? Really? It’s too sad to even be funny!” John chuckled out with a humourless smile clinging to his sad face.

Sherlock’s heart was thrumming rapidly in his throat as he and John stood staring at each other.

“I didn’t want you to... not, want to be with me because of a bad thing that happen half a lifetime ago.”

“That wouldn’t have happened. I would have just made sure we went slower. I would have made sure that you were doing better that just _enduring_ us making love.” Sherlock saw how John looked pained at even the very idea.

“But, I enjoy it! I do! Eventually. It’s just the initial moments, those moments when I’m adjusting and coming to the… the realisation it’s YOU I’m with and not—” Sherlock tried.

“This was so poorly executed Sherlock, I’m sort of… speechless, actually. You obviously didn’t trust me enough to do what was best.” John sighed in response.

“I trust you with my life! But, I know what’s best for me!” Sherlock growled in defence. But, then he saw the anger drain out of the doctor and his breath hitched.

“But you evidently don’t know what’s best for US. No, person on this earth with a heart want’s to think of their partner hurt—No! Let me finish—no partner wants to think of their partner hurting or suffering. I now have to rethink every moment that we’ve laid in that bed together, trying to work out if I remember you sounding like you actually even liked any of it. And maybe you did, maybe you’re telling the truth now. But, all you’ve left me with is doubts now. Sherlock, just doubts and misdirection’s. I’ve done that once before, remember? And I honestly don’t know if I could do it again.” John ran a tired hand down his face

“John please!” Sherlock pleaded as the sad doctor made his way up the stairs with what suspiciously looked like a limp in tow. “I didn’t—” but, Sherlock’s calls were only met by an oppressive silence.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock, didn’t sleep that night and if his deductions were correct John didn’t much either as he could hear the doctors bedsprings groan under the doctors continual tossing and turning. Sherlock had spent much of the night in his mind palace, going over the entire evenings proceedings. Evaluating and concluding that he _had_ indeed balls’d up things pretty spectacularly. And, out of all the things John had said the one thing Sherlock, couldn’t deny was just how _‘poorly executed’_ **everything** had been. John was hurt because he viewed himself as sort of **‘perpetrator’** _preposterous_ thought Sherlock. But, none the less it was John’s mind space presently and Sherlock supposes that he can understand John’s _wrong_ inference that Sherlock himself had not wanted to have sex and was just doing so for John’s sake. So, Sherlock needed to make it clear John was working with a flawed ideation.

Tactic: Corrective reasoning.

Sherlock was thrown out of his mind palace by the sound of John making his way slowly and very heavily down the stairs. Sherlock was up and out of his sprawl on the sofa within moments, standing awkwardly in the doorway as John made his way groggily into the kitchen. John looked… tired.

‘ _Sleep observation: Correct’_ Sherlock supposed.

John didn’t look at him, but the detective was positive the doctor could sense him in the room as on a few occasions the doctor’s movements stuttered momentarily. Until this point, Sherlock was sure ‘every John’ was his favourite John. However, now Sherlock would have to begrudging admit to that conclusion being utterly wrong because ‘despondent John’ was almost agonising to watch.

Sherlock felt like his entire transport was going to spontaneously shutdown, he was feeling overwhelmed with all of the things he wanted to say but had no idea ‘ _how’_ to say. But, as ever John, was (as always) in tune (whether or not the doctor wanted to be at present) with Sherlock’s distress.

“What is it, Sherlock?” John’s voice was flat and gruff.

“… I…“ Sherlock was unsure of what his first words were going to be at this point so his vocals merely stalled in it throat.

John ‘ _still’_ wasn’t looking at Sherlock, ‘ _he’s pulling away’_ the detective thought to himself. _‘Say something!’_

“John… we, uh… could we… talk? Please?” Sherlock internally winced at himself.

John let out a low breath but slowly turned around and moved towards the kitchen table pulling out a chair to take a seat. Sherlock, following the doctor’s lead did the same.

John sat silently watching the table refusing to meet the detective’s eyes.

“I should feel—I mean, I feel I must clarify something’s.” Sherlock cleared his throat. “I have had only 2 sexual partnerships.”

John inhaled unsteadily through his nose but remained silent.

“Obviously as you are now aware Sebastian was one and you were—‘ _are’_ the other. One granted, was… defective but the other was—‘ _is’_ quite remarkable. However, admittedly that first sexual partnership has unfortunately had considerably, unpleasant psychological effects that have… persisted.”

Sherlock looked up from his hands and saw the doctor though still not looking at him was definitely listening, so he continued.

“Sex. That is to say sex before, you, had simply been an alarming, cold and rather painful animalist deed. The first person I, ‘relatively speaking’ trusted with my body had been… callus with it. And, often my fear or discomfort was… _appealing_ to him. We, also... often only had sex in the dark.”

Sherlock, looked up just as a flash of understand race behind John’s unfocused gaze. Sherlock leaned forward, stapling his hands together on the table.

“I need you to believe me when I say regardless of the undeniably, _complex_ triggers of my mind. ‘ _I am passed… it’_. I’m ‘ _not’_ unhappy during sex ‘ _with you’_. Yes, I will concede that during the initial stages of intimacy, there are some ‘ _irrational’_ fears that can at times persist. But, as soon as I can smell you… feel you and taste **you** , it quickly subsides because it’s ‘ _you’_.”

“So, if—” John croaked clearing his throat from its lack of use “If he… if when you were with him in the dark… why do-- we…” John trailed of uncomfortably.

“Habit. I suppose. However, it was also largely due to me not wishing for you to see me....” Sherlock stopped not wanting to say the actual word.

“Terrified.” John finished for him and Sherlock had to actively stop himself from pursing his lips, knowing he was in no position to get pouty.

After a moment of quiet, both men sat thinking over what had been said.

Sherlock whispered “I am sorry, john.” And, for the first moment that morning the doctor looked up to meet the detective’s eyes.

“I know. Tea?” without waiting for an answer John pushed himself up from the table and went about finishing the tea had earlier abandoned.

Sherlock did not feel better.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been 2 weeks since, ‘The Incident’ and neither of the two men had dared to approach the topic again. The atmosphere after the first 3 or so days had returned back to a ‘reasonable’ version of normal within 221b.

Sherlock was back to his experiments, John back to complaining about buying milk and Mrs’s Hudson was back to still not being their housekeeper. On the surface, everything was fine. Underneath, however was a different story. Below, there was residual tension and hurt feelings. Sherlock was hurt John was still mad even after he’d apologised. John was hurt about… well pretty much everything.

Eventually, the stilted conversation about **_nothing,_** the limited amounts of eye contact, the absence of comfortable silence and most importantly the maddening lack of physical… well anything. Became too much for Sherlock and it all boiled over on an evening during the last moments of a case. The detective had just been explaining to everyone how he knew to prevent the planned explosions of 7 separate mainline train stations, by distracting the bomber and switching out the phones by pick-pocketing him. It was impressive. John had been impressed.

The doctor had told Sherlock he was “ _brilliant, just… bloody brilliant”_ and Sherlock had positively preened under the praise, until from the corner of his eye he saw what had become **one** of his doctor’s newest enraging habits.

John, who had always been so free with his tactile touches had actually hesitated to pat Sherlock on the shoulder, his bloody _shoulder_.

And well that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back, after **2 weeks** with no touches seeing John stop himself from touching his ‘shoulder’ was too infuriating for words. Sherlock’s pride could only take so much and being the object of ‘john’s’ constant rejection and lack of affection was causing him a continuous ache.

Sherlock stormed off from the crime scene towards a fortuitously waiting cab and ordered the driver to immediately take him to Baker Street not even attempting to wait for John. _‘Fuck john!’_ Sherlock had screamed to himself _‘fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him!’_

Sherlock steadfastly ignored the furious, burning sting behind his eyeballs. He was angry.

Sherlock sat in the back of the taxi angrily strumming his hands on his thigh looking unseeingly out of the darkening window.

_‘How DARE he, how fucking DARE he.’_

**Sherlock’s thoughts were crowding him.**

_‘I apologised and I DO NOT APOLOGISE.’_

_‘He won’t touch me.’_

_‘ **Why** won’t he touch me?’ _

_‘I told him the truth… in the end.’_

_‘I did **‘good’** I **saved** ‘people’… and John said I was amazing, he said I was ‘brilliant’. But, then… he couldn’t… **touch** me.’ _

_‘Wouldn’t?’_

_‘Couldn’t?’_

_‘Maybe, he doesn’t want me anymore?’_

_‘Maybe, he wants me too much.’_

_‘Stupid! Of course not.’_

_‘He’s pulling away.’_

_‘Wrong. **Correction**.’ _

_‘John, is pulling **‘further’** away.’ _

_‘Was merely ‘ **pulling away** ’ 2 weeks ago, and now…’_

 

Sherlock’s thoughts began to veer off into many threads of many tangents as his eyes darted rhythmically in time with the cab’s engine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness of this one.
> 
> x


	6. Chapter 6

As the taxi pulled up outside 221b Sherlock practically threw the notes scrunched up in his sweaty palms at the taxi driver before flinging himself out of the car and rushing towards the front door.

Upon reaching the living room Sherlock abruptly flung his Belstaff off letting his coat drop carelessly onto the sofa or perhaps it was the floor, he wasn’t really concentrating all he knew was that **THIS** whatever ‘ _this_ ’ was that was happening between him and John had to end. Sherlock needed to know where he stood, the weight of their silences were too heavy for him to bear anymore. Sherlock hadn’t been touched in 2 weeks, had slept alone for 2 weeks, hadn’t been told he was loved for 2 weeks and tonight, tonight he needed John to tell him what was happening because this heart-breaking limbo was just TOO MUCH.

Sherlock was still pacing around 2 hours later when John ‘finally’ decided to come home. John’s footstep fell quietly, and just a little too carefully. _‘Didn’t want to come home’_ Sherlock’s brain supplied _‘dreading seeing… me.’_

Sherlock’s heart stuttered in his chest as John slowly opened the door stepping in to the room closing it behind him as he leaned heavily against it. John was looking at his feet again, **another** new habit that made Sherlock want to pull his own hair out, but one he didn’t comment on.

Sherlock tried but, failed to suppress his snarl. “Where have _you_ been?”

“Out. Like you, wanted” John answer flatly.

Sherlock’s head whipped around. As, he looked at the doctor incredulously. “Like… ‘ _I’_ wanted?”

John simply, _mmm’d_ in response. “Wasn’t that why you left me there? With Lestrade and half the people we work with on a semi-regular basis. Isn’t that what you wanted? Hmm… to be _alone_?”

“I’ve done that before.” Sherlock answered defensively.

“Done what?”

“Left, you… at a crime scene.”

“No, you haven’t” John flatly replied again.

“Yes. I did. The pink lady case… Oh, what did you call it? Oh yes! ‘A study in pink’ I left you there, remember? The night Mycroft first got to you.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“We weren’t together, then. We weren’t supposed to be _partners_ , then.” John answered simply.

“You, were… I didn’t… NO!” Sherlock growled out. “No! This has to end.”

John breathed out an unsteady “Okay.” And turned to leave.

“Where are you going now?”

John paused. “Leaving.”

“What? Why? I thought…”

John sighed deeply “Sherlock, you just—“

“I know what I said, John” Sherlock snapped but John simply continued.

“—you just said that _this_ had to stop. So, I’m stopping it.”

“You’re being annoying, John. You’re not as stupid as you keep acting. I didn’t mean ‘our relationship’ I meant this, this atmosphere has to stop. It’s painful. You’re being, painful.”

“Of course. It’s me.” John shook his head humourlessly.

“No—that’s not—it was me. Okay? I miscalculated the importance of your need to know. But you—you cannot just stop loving someone because they miscalculate, John. I may not be an expert in this particular realm but I know that love shouldn’t be something you take away to ‘ _punish_ ’ someone.”

“What?”

“You. You took your love away, simply because you were upset with me.”

“I didn’t—that’s not what…”

“You took your affection away. You stopped touching me, stopped smiling at me, you’ve made me sleep alone and you stopped saying ‘I love you’, is that not withdrawing ones affections?”

John stood paralysed on the spot staring actually ‘ _staring_ ’ at Sherlock. “That wasn’t me taking my love away Sherlock, that was me hurting in my own right. I am so sorry you thought, that. That isn’t even close to right.” Sherlock let out a breath he had no idea he was holding at John’s words.

John carried on paying no attention to Sherlock’s palpable relief. “But, I accept everything you throw at me Sherlock and I sometimes think you take that for granted.” Sherlock simply stood watching John as he continued to speak.

“You, miscalculated? Sherlock, you lied (by omission) during the whole duration of our relationship. I’m not mad because my pride is bruised. I not upset that you took me for an idiot. Honestly, that’s part of the course with you. I’m upset because someone hurt you and by not telling me you inadvertently aligned me and Sebastian together. That is what upsets me. It’s all well and good saying you ‘ **happily** ’ went along with sex with ‘ **me** ’. But, to me all I hear is ‘ _I love you, so I let you use my body_ ’ and honestly I’m not okay with that. So, yes you’re right. Affection has been lacking on my side, but not because I don’t love you. It’s because loving you so blindly stopped me from looking… really looking at you and seeing what was blatantly in front of my face the whole time. And, that’s terrifying to me especially as trust is not our forte. I can’t trust you to tell me when something’s wrong, so I needed the space to ‘see’ I suppose.”

Sherlock wasn’t sure what to say to that. He wasn’t entirely sure there was something he ‘ _could_ ’ say to that.

“How do I fix it?” Sherlock mumbled after the silence had turned chilling.

“Time. Sherlock, we just need time. I’ll be upset for a little while but we’ll work on it, on us.”

“But—I need…”

“I know.” John answered knowingly moving over to the sofa. “Come here.”

Sherlock followed the order without thought, when he reached John, the doctor reached out his hand to Sherlock pulling him into his arms as he sat down, tucking Sherlock into his side.

“I’m sorry, you were lonely, Sherlock. I promise that won’t happen again. I’ll try to be more affection, but doesn’t include sex or me sleeping in your room.”

Sherlock was just about to ask how affection can be given if John refuses to sleep with him, but John got there faster.

“Sex doesn’t equal affection.” John said humbly as he pulled Sherlock closer to his chest and Sherlock was powerless to argue, after being starved of John for 2 very long weeks he was currently overdosing in the best possible way. “We’ll get there.”

“Alright.” Sherlock mumbled quietly as he snuggled further in John’s arms resting his face deeper into the soft feel of John’s blue jumper and inhaled intensely the specific smell that was so purely _John_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, how was that?
> 
> The story is winding down now, I'd say maybe 2 more chapters, 3 at the most.  
> Thank you for your lovely encouraging comments. They're making this even more of a pleasure to write.
> 
> Enjoy x


	7. Chapter 7

6 weeks later. Things between John and Sherlock had gotten progressively better. John still slept in his room upstairs but just like he had promised, Sherlock was treated to affection daily. Instead of sitting in their retrospective chairs they would sit cuddling on the sofa while John drank tea and updated his blog and Sherlock splayed himself across John thinking over the details of whatever new or old case he found needed, arranging in his mind palaces’ storage hold.

Things were… _nice_.

Not even close to enough for Sherlock, by any means, but nice none the less.

On one of the quieter evenings they had experienced in, recent weeks. Sherlock decided to try his luck. Observing, John who was so avidly watching some nonsense or the other on the TV while gently carding his fingers through the detective’s hair. The doctor, looked so calm and at peace with everything, Sherlock found himself unable to stop himself from asking for more.

“John?”

“Hmm?” Came the vibrated response.

“When can we start having sex again?” The question was met by an unsteady inhalation but, very little else.

Sherlock sat up after too many seconds of tense silence had passed with no answer. “John?”

The doctor’s eyes unenthusiastically met the detectives. “You, didn’t just randomly think of this did you?”

“No, I’ve been considering this for the last 58 days.” Sherlock answered truthfully.

“Right, okay. Right.” John, ran a hand over his mouth.

“Well?” The detective needled.

“Well… I mean Sherlock, I’m not… I don’t know.” John replied hesitantly.

Sherlock, continued onwards. Ignoring the doctor’s obvious reluctance. “Why, not now?”

“Well… I mean—we haven’t—you know talked about how... that would go.” Stammered out the doctor.

The detective glared in genuine confusion. “What is there to talk about?”

John let out an exasperated huff. “Jesus, Sherlock. A hell of a lot to be fair.”

“Like?” Pried the detective, obstinately.

The doctor, dropping eye contact momentarily, answered vaguely. “Umm, I don’t know. Like…stuff.”

“Like… _stuff_?” Sherlock mimicked disdainfully.

“Yes! Sherlock! Like ‘stuff’. What is it you want me to say?” Came the irritated response.

Sherlock watched John closely for a moment. “I want you to tell me, when we can start having sex again.”

“Y—you can’t just drop this on me out of, nowhere.” Sighed John.

Sherlock snorted. “Hardly out of nowhere John.”

“Well it is for me!” John growled.

“Don’t you miss it?” The detective continued to quiz.

“I…”

Sherlock’s voice quietened to a more vulnerable tone as he asked. “Don’t you miss me?”

John smiled warmly at the tone. “I’m with you.”

“Not properly. Not like a couple.” Sherlock pouted.

John sat back against the arm of the sofa watching the detective closely as he crossed his arms. “So to be a couple we have to be having sex?”

“Yes—no—yes, in a way.” Sherlock internally cursed himself. _‘Trick bloody question’_ the detective thought to himself.

The doctor quirked an eyebrow. “What does that mean exactly? ‘In a way’?”

“I want you back.” Huffed the detective.

“Again, you have me.” The doctor answered simply.

“I want all of you!” The detective winced. _‘Sulking, won’t work. He’s testing you. Doesn’t completely, trust you really want to. DON’T FAIL!’_ Sherlock internally chided.

John narrowed his eyes minutely, in challenge. “You, have that too.”

“Stop being dense! You know full well what I’m saying.” _‘Shit’_ Sherlock, growled at himself.

John sighed deeply. “Okay, okay let’s talk properly.” Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes which made John’s mouth set into a tight line. “I’m serious Sherlock. You, want this? Then we do it properly this time. No half-arsing it! We do it safely and at a pace that works for both of us. I have to be able to bank on you. Do you understand?”

“Will you ever let that go” The detective sighed dramatically.

The doctor stared pointedly. “It was kind of a big thing.”

“Fine. Your rules.” Sherlock conceded.

“Thank you.”

“So, we can have sex now?” asked Sherlock tilting forward to kiss the doctor.

John, almost yelped at the abruptness of it. “What? No—did you—no Sherlock, not now.”

“Then when?” Sherlock grouched.

Rolling his eyes at the ridiculous man in front of him, John retorted. “Fine. Um…Thursday.”

Sherlock’s eyes went comically wide. “What? That’s 3 days from now. What’s the point of waiting another 3 days for something we could do now?”

“It’ll give us time to discuss it more, don’t look at me like that. I’m a doctor. I need for us to proceed with an air of caution.” _‘Ever the bloody doctor.’_ Thought Sherlock, peevishly.

“You didn’t before and we did just fine, I don’t see—” Sherlock’s argument evaporated rapidly on his tongue as he surveyed John’s gaze hardening.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go there just yet Sherlock, I don’t believe we’re at the ‘flippant comments’ stage quite yet, do you?" John scrutinized the detective with raised his eyebrows in a defiant dare for Sherlock to try him.

Sherlock swallowed deeply. “I apologise, I forget it’s a… delicate wound for **you**.”

“Yes, one that’s _still_ healing. Anyway, we’ve waited 2 months. Hell, you’ve gone 19 years without! 3 days won’t hurt.” John scolded.

“But, you do miss it, yes?” Checked Sherlock.

“Yes. Sherlock, I miss it.” Sighed John.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Miss it with… me?”

John frowned. “Of course. Don’t be an idiot.”

Sherlock smiled slightly. “Fine then. 3 days.”

“3 days. Now, can I finish watching this?”

“What? Oh yes, continue. I have to think anyway.” Replied Sherlock, who was already on his way into his mind palace.

“Right. Well lie down then. I’m guessing you’ll be in there for a while.” John pointed fondly at Sherlock’s head.

“Quite.” The detective answered, lastly as he prepared to spend the rest of the evening _‘thinking.’_


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock was positive 3 days had never gone so slow in his life. Sherlock had spent most of the ‘much awaited’ Thursday playing gruelling symphonies of loud, high-pitched sounds which in no way replicated the music he was able to so beautifully play, as he stood playing by the window _waiting_ for John to come home from the surgery.

Sherlock waited with patience he’d never before knew he could possess. It had been… difficult. Sherlock had never before ‘ _craved’_ sexual contact so much in his life, but he truly **needed** it, now. It wasn’t the ‘sex’ in particular he missed. Like, John had pointed out previously to the detective, Sherlock had gone years without anything other than the occasional manual stimulation. No, it wasn’t the actual act of sex (although, his body admittedly had become accustomed to their regular ‘physicality’ and was thus going through its own _withdrawals_ ).

But no, in general it wasn’t the act Sherlock needed.

It was the closeness.

The close, intimate proximity to John. It was the feeling of John’s heart beating next to his. John’s breath ghosting over the skin he was in reach of. John’s sweat blending and merging with his own. It was **John** he missed. And, although John proclaimed he was already ‘with’ Sherlock. Sherlock himself, as ridiculous as it was needed the physical proof that they were in fact as ‘ _fine_ ’ and ‘ _together_ ’ as John kept saying.

Because, regardless of what John may have believed to be true. Sherlock, was all too painfully aware of the damage his omission or ‘ _lie_ ’ as John loved to put it, had had on his relationship with John. He, _knew_ the effect his blunder had taken on the trust he and John had shared. He saw it every time John thought he couldn’t see.

The day after their Monday evening chat, had been filled with ‘ _tedious_ ’ talks and negotiations. John had been firm and unyielding on most of the terms proposed by both of them and Sherlock had felt an infuriating blend of aggravated, proud, exasperated and aroused. But, the detective could see that despite their talks John was still… unsure (not that he said).

No, Sherlock knew this not by anything in particular the doctor said or did but by ‘ _everything’_ the doctor said and did.

Sherlock, hated it.

For the first time in his entire existence Sherlock actually envied the dull and dim-witted, he truly **yearned** not to be able to see what John hid from him behind his eyes or rather ‘tried’ to hide. He **hated** that _he_ had caused the slight tinge of doubt and reluctance in John’s demeanour in regards to their intimacy. He also hated the way the doctor tried to hide the residual effects of his anger around Sherlock by trying to pass them off as tiredness or hunger. As if, Sherlock was some ‘idiotic’ being. Sherlock was a genius. A genius who noticed things. A genius who noticed things like John’s slight recline when Sherlock brushed his fingers over the doctors chest or the way John took precisely 2.3 seconds longer to meet the detective gaze and the countless other ticks John was displaying. Sherlock, _saw_ he just for once in his life chose to let _those_ particular issues lie.

Sherlock’s thoughts were broken by the sound of the front door opening, his breath stalled in chest as heard John and Mrs Hudson’s mumbled voices. The detective quickly dropped his violin into his chair with less care than he ever normally would, rushing out to meet John who was making his way up the stairs and along the landing.

“Sherlock what the hell have you been doing to Mrs Hudson? She’s beside herself. Apparently you’ve playing, well _I_ say playing she said you were more like a wo—“ that was as far as John got before Sherlock had come bounding into his arms crushing his mouth to John’s.

John was the first to pull away for breath still somewhat startled by his greeting. “Well… that…was… nice. What’s the occasion?”

Sherlock stepped back looking aghast. “It’s sex day!”

“Oh yes! Yes! Of course. It’s Thursday.” John smiled ‘ _not the same smile as ‘before’ but true none the less_ ’ thought the detective.

Sherlock aborted the line of thought, immediately comparing how John was before to how he was now was a sure way for Sherlock’s chest to begin aching. ‘ _Avoid._ ’ “How could you forget?”

‘ _2.3 seconds_ ’ Sherlock couldn't help but think .

“Well… I mean… we only just finished that case, yesterday. And, I’ve had a hell of a day at work, you wouldn’t believe the amount of bronchial infections I had to see today. You should of seen the—”

“I don’t care.” _‘I just want to be naked and next to you’_ the detective’s brain finished.

“Right, well thanks for that.” John pursed his lips in a severe way that told Sherlock ‘ _a bit not good '_

“What? Oh. That was rude, yes?”

“Yes.” John agreed.

“I’m sorry. Now, come to bed.” Sherlock began pulling John towards the hallway leading to the bedroom.

John spluttered. “Can I shower first, at least?”

“No!” The detective could hear the ‘growl’ like noise that escaped him.

“Sherlock…”

“Fine. Do not be long.” Sherlock huffed.

“Jesus! Alright.” Snapped John.

John’s shower took precisely 24 minutes which was 13 minutes too long in Sherlock’s mind, but when he saw the doctor exit the bathroom looking all wet and glossy he forgave him completely, that was _until_ he saw the doctor walking towards the kitchen instead of the bedroom. _‘What is God’s name is wrong with this man?’_ thought Sherlock to himself.

“JOHN!” Sherlock had screeched from directly behind the doctor causing the smaller man to Jump.

“Christ! Sherlock! Why are you shouting like a mad man, it almost 9 o’clock.”

“What are you doing? The bedroom is that way!” Sherlock pointed accusingly.

“Yes. Thank you! I’m aware, but I’m hungry and before you even start I fully intend to eat so save yourself the speech.”

“You don’t want to, do you?” Sherlock rambled. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? Delay tactics? Honestly, John if you think—“

“Will you **‘shut up’**?” John huffed as he jammed 2 slices of bread into the toaster turning around to see Sherlock looking at him in a way that for Sherlock might pass for ‘bashful.’

“I want you, very much. I want to have sex with you, _very_ much. I intend for us to have **a lot** of sex. But, Sherlock it’s not a race. We have time. So, calm down and take a breath, yeah? I’m having some toast and some tea and then we’ll go into the bedroom, alright?” Sherlock simply nodded. “Good. Okay so, while I eat you can tell me about your day. Did Lestrade call?”

“No. which means today has been nothing other than dull and uneventful.”

“Mmm, well hopefully I’ll fix that.” John winked cheekily at the detective who absolutely **did not blush** , while John went to retrieve his toast, smothering it in jam.

As the doctor sat down at the table Sherlock stood watching him silently willing him to eat faster and was so busy concentrating he was perplexed when he looked up to see John laughing at him.

“What?” Sherlock had puffed defensively.

“Nothing.” John smiled “I just love you. Quirks and all.”

The detective’s mouth curved upwards slightly, as he tried to ignore the way his stomach fluttered at ‘ _those_ ’ words. “I don’t have quirks, John”

“Sure, course not.” The doctor had grinned into his toast.

“I love you too.” Sherlock mumbled

“I know.” Smiled, John through his last few mouthfuls.

Sherlock perked up brightly. “Ready?”

“Well I was going to have some tea—” Sherlock stared at John darkly causing the doctor to give up before the detectives petulant nature could explode. “Right. Fine, fine! I’ll leave the tea.”

Sherlock dived forward applying a bruising kiss to John’s strawberry laced mouth and tugged him roughly towards his bedroom. No. **Their** bedroom it was soon to be ‘ _theirs_ ’ again.

And, Sherlock couldn’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was surprisingly difficult to write. It's kinda hard transitioning from angst to sexy time, without making it unrealistic. I'm still not sure how I feel about this chapter. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Final chapter coming up. I hope I do it justice.  
> Thank you guys so much for your amazing comments, they really make my day.
> 
> x


	9. Chapter 9

John sat Sherlock on the bed and then sat down beside him. The doctor, then began to gently tug his fingers through the detective’s soft tousled curls in a way that made him practically purr in delight. ‘ _This_ ’ Sherlock thought to himself ‘ _this is… home_.’ John, raised his other hand to cup Sherlock’s jaw as he moved in slowly ghosting kisses over his jaw, cheek, ear and neck. Sherlock was in heaven, it had felt like years since he’d felt John’s touch like this and it was setting his skin on fire. Soon, John’s mouth found Sherlock’s and the doctor lowered his hand, slowly (too slowly, much, much too slowly) unbuttoning the detective’s shirt. Sherlock closed his eyes enjoying the sensation of John fingers sliding down his chest. Their kiss grew hungrier the longer it went on; it began with Sherlock delving furiously into John’s mouth and concluded with John suckling on Sherlock’s lips until they were beautifully raw.

The doctor, in time made his way further down younger man’s body, nipping and tasting the skin on his way. Soon, the detective began to feel the tell-tale indicators of his previous anxieties prickling in his peripheral and almost, instinctually the detective began to reach for the lamp switch so they could be plunged into the security of the darkness.

However, unbeknownst to Sherlock he was being scrutinized closely for precisely that moment and John grabbed his wrist before Sherlock could reach for the lamp and he intertwined their fingers.

“No.” John whispered, as he pressed up so he and the detective were face to face.

“John I—” Sherlock had no idea where wanted to go with the sentence, if he told John that the fear was beginning to take hold, that he could feel the pounding of his heart accelerating terrifyingly; John would stop. That couldn’t happen, not when Sherlock had fought so hard to get them to the stage they were at; not when they were so close. That couldn’t happen.

John’s tone was firm but warm when he spoke again. “We do this in the light.”

Sherlock vocals worked against his permission. “I can’t…”

“Neither can I. I can’t do this in the dark. I can’t do this, worrying that you’re terrified. I need to be able to see you.” John breathed simply.

Panic, was beginning to clutch at Sherlock’s chest. However, this time it had nothing to do with _sex_ and everything to do with the prospect of John stopping and _eventually_ leaving him for someone who was able to function through the _basic_ act of copulation. “If you see, you’ll stop.” The horror had filtered into is words.

John watched him calmly for a moment. “That **is** a _strong_ possibility. But, we’ll try tomorrow or the next day or the next; we have time, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s eyes simultaneously burned with questions and shone with wonder. “Time?”

“Buckets of it!” John smiled.

“Well if—I mean if you—okay, I suppose we could—” Sherlock words were terminated by John’s lips crushing lovingly into his. The doctor took time exploring the detective’s mouth, kissing and caressing the majority of the tension away. Unseeingly, he then reached his hand into the bedside draw, withdrawing a bottle of lubricant, deftly flipping the lid and pouring it onto his fingers.

“ _So_ _clever_.” Sherlock smiled into John’s mouth as John chuckled back into his. The doctor soon pulled back trailing kissing along the detective’s neck, and slowly John licked and touched the skin below Sherlock’s clavicle making a slow descent downward on the younger man’s chest and stomach making Sherlock’s breath hitch with an anticipation that was still laced with small traces of fear (but he was intending keep **that** to himself). John looked up observing Sherlock closely, ‘ _trust issues_ ’ Sherlock’s brain supplied ‘ _he already knows, he’s seeing how it goes._ ’

After a beat, John looked back down as he pushed in his first finger to begin preparing the detective. Sherlock’s eyes were shut almost painfully together.

“Sherlock? **Sherlock** look at me. Open your eyes and watch me.” Sherlock did as instructed and for an instant he was unsure of what came next. So, he simply decided to do nothing and let John have the control. After all Sherlock doing everything his way hadn’t always ended well.

“Okay?” John’s voice had a gravelled edge to it but Sherlock was sure his wouldn’t sound any better so he simply nodded. “Alright, just watch me. Keep your eyes on my face, okay?” Once again, Sherlock’s vocals felt unreliable so he solely nodded once more. “Good. You’re doing brilliantly.” A smirk touched John’s mouth at Sherlock’s faintly pinker cheeks.

‘ _Damn John and his praise_ ’ Sherlock thought fondly.

John gently danced his other hand over Sherlock’s inner thighs, while his eye’s flickered from between the detective’s legs to his face. “Talk to me. Talk me through what you like—hey, don’t close your eyes. Remember? Keep them on me. Come on tell me what you like.”

Sherlock gaped at John for an embarrassingly long spell trying to decode his doctor’s request before he simply admitted defeat. “I don’t _understand_.”

“Yes you do.” Sherlock just stared back vacantly, he really didn't have the faintest clue what John was on about. “I happen to **know** for a fact that you’ve used this particular ‘ _tactic’_ on **me** _many_ times.”

‘ _Ah_ ’ in an instant the detective had it.

Sherlock’s eyes lit up. Amazing, wonderful, beautiful John. Sherlock couldn’t help but smile as he breathed out the words unevenly. “ _Distract a-and avoid_.”

“Distract and avoid” John hummed back. “So? What do _you_ like?”

Oh. Sherlock got this game now.

“I like when… we kiss, it—” Sherlock was cut off by John entering another finger which brushed his prostate. “John I—“

“Shh what else?” Sherlock at times like these was certain, ‘ **John** ’ was the _real_ genius.

“I… y—your mouth on—” the detective was cut off as John entered his third finger and rotated them with a beautiful slowness that had Sherlock's eyes rolling so far back his eyes closed inadvertently.

“No, no open your eyes, Holmes” the action was startlingly hard to comply with as the ex-captain’s fingers worked dexterously.

John withdrew his fingers and asked Sherlock to keep talking while John slicked himself up, ignorant of the fact Sherlock up until that point had been unaware he’d even been using words at all.

Thankfully Sherlock was saved from that embarrassing exchange as John leaned forward, kissing him thoroughly and slowly pushing himself in to the detective. Sherlock keened wide-eye and suddenly startlingly alert as he stared into _his_ doctor’s eyes for the first time _ever_ during sex with him.

“How are we doing?” The doctor slurred raggedly.

“I…”

“I need you—to—to tell me… this can only work if you _tell_ me, Sherlock.” John slowly rotate his hips to brush Sherlock’s prostate again. “ **Now**. How. Are. We. _Doing_?” asked the doctor with astonishingly precise thrusts while gazing into the detectives eyes.

Sherlock believed there was a significant chance he could actually pass out from pleasure overload, but thought better of mentioning that for two reasons.

One: John could actually stop. Two: too many words to try and formulate.

“Sur—ung—OH!—GOD!—su—surprising—sup—surprisingly…well.” Sherlock stammered out in a way that would make him cringe at a later date.

Watching the doctor, actually seeing the look of controlled desire and pronounced want was almost astonishing for the detective. Sherlock was literally seeing everything for the first time and it was… _good_. He felt no more dark foreboding, none of the irksome panic, nor the disgusting prickle of fear on his skin. Just… anticipation and _pure want_. He ‘wanted’ John to speed up so he could watch John’s control crumple, he ‘wanted’ him to slow down so they could stay in this moment forever… but yet it hadn’t once crossed his mind to want John to _stop_.

The detective watched avidly as the doctor pulled back onto his knees reaching for the younger man’s hand, for what Sherlock had assumed was for some mid-coitus handholding so the detective’s breath stalled in his throat as the doctor tugged his hand down to rest where he and John were joined together.

“Me and you. Yes?” John rasped out.

Sherlock’s heart stuttered in his chest. **John**. Clever, amazing, wonderful John. “Yes.” The detective whimpered in response.

The doctor’s thrusts deepened and the immediate thoughts Sherlock had disappeared as he watched the doctor. **His** doctor, watching him.

As soon, as John’s still slicked hand wrapped around him, all cognitive thought disappeared, completely. John leaned in kissing him deeply as they both dived head first into the most intense orgasm Sherlock had ever experienced. John kissed him thoroughly through the come down, touching and stroking expertly as he pulled out, his hand patting unseeingly on the side for the rag Sherlock had prepared earlier in the day, it was incredibly cold after sitting out for so long in the open air but Sherlock couldn’t bring himself to care. After wiping all the visual evidence away John tugged the corner of the duvet down and got in, pulling Sherlock back into his arms. The detective didn’t need to be told anything else, he simply moved with the doctor as he kissed his curls and adjusted them.

“How are you? Any panic? No lying!” John asked warmly but with the strict ‘Captain Watson’ undertone, Sherlock knew not to mess with.

“Only, before you had me open my eyes.” The detective answered honestly.

But, John still lacked trust in the detective’s words alone. “You sure?”

“Yes, _John_ I’m sure. I’ve learnt my lesson. I won’t lie to you _about ‘sex’ again_.” Sherlock responded diplomatically.

Unexpectedly, John chuckled “oh, that was _nicely_ done. You won’t lie about the ‘sex’ again? Does that mean ‘ _everything else’_ is up for grabs?”

“Let’s take it one step at a time shall we? No need to go mad, after all. We have **time**.” Sherlock smiled as he heard John’s ‘only-for-Sherlock-giggle’.

“Well it’s a start.” The doctor grinned.

After a long minute of quiet Sherlock finally took the time to appreciate where he was. John was back in _their_ bed.

After **2 months** of distracting himself with cases to avoid sleeping alone; Sherlock, could now _sleep,_ something he had taken for granted in the arms of the man he also has taken for granted and probably in all honesty would again. As, he reached out to switch off the lamp Sherlock realised he could of save himself wasted months if he’d just let John help.

**_John_**. Patient, amazing, wonderful John.

Closing his eyes preparing for sleep to take him, Sherlock breathe out some of his last conscious thoughts.

“I missed you.”

Things weren’t perfect. Sherlock knew there were things John was harbouring. He knew he had damaged ‘something’ between them that would never fully be whole again, or at least wouldn’t be for a very long time. But, he would work on it. It would be his greatest case yet.

After a few moments of silence came a warm exhale of air, ruffling the detective’s curls.

“I missed you too.”

The detective smiled. _‘This was just the start.’_

 

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly hope you enjoyed this.  
> I do have my doubts about this chapter, but if I hadn't stopped here, it could have gone on for ages.  
> I always love to hear what you think, so please feel free to be honest.  
> I know the smut wasn't overly 'smutty smut' but I did what I could.
> 
> Thank you so much for the support and kudos, there so appreciated!
> 
> x


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